Imagine, if you will, a tiny little sparkly fairy
If you do, then think of her as I call her, Mary.
Mary likes to flit around and settle on my shoulder
Lacking that, she’ll often sit on an old, lumpy boulder.
Mary and I we like to play, we sing our little songs
Mary is full of mischief, puts things where they don’t belong.
When I am asked by others, why did you put that here?
They don’t understand, it wasn’t me, but Mary has disappeared.